I pray, Anna, that you may find your happiness. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. She had nothing to say for herself. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. This is a noted place for highwaymen. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. And the Duke, too—I heard him say that a married secretary would be worse than useless to him. The baby was placed in her 19 lap. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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